


i'm just like my friends (i'm sick and tired of waiting by the phone)

by fulllsun (MikaCoal)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Autism Spectrum, Everyone but Renjun and Chenle are just mentioned, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Literally just wrote this to vent, Mental Health Issues, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaCoal/pseuds/fulllsun
Summary: It'd been hours ever since he first sat down.Renjun only knew that because he could see how lighter the sky had gotten, the window in his room being right in his periphery, and he knew that that was a sign that he should just call it quits and head on to bed, pack it up, start fresh the next day, he had work, and classes, much to do.His legs didn't move.--Introspection heavy vent piece.
Kudos: 8





	i'm just like my friends (i'm sick and tired of waiting by the phone)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to fit into a WIP I've been writing for a few months, but I felt like it could stand alone. WIP is (possibly) still to come.
> 
> Renjun is autistic with rejection sensitive dysphoria, and while this isn't written directly about the disorders themselves, some symptoms are mentioned in fair detail. No major triggers, but reader discretion is advised if you feel like this could make you uncomfortable to read.
> 
> Title from Saintlike, by Jakey.

It'd been hours ever since he first sat down. 

Renjun only knew that because he could see how lighter the sky had gotten, the window in his room being right in his periphery, and he knew that that was a sign that he should just call it quits and head on to bed, pack it up, start fresh the next day, he had work, and classes, much to do.

His legs didn't move.

His hands were another matter entirely. They hurt, as well as his wrists, but he kept moving them along the keys on his piano, trying to get _something_ to work. 

Honestly, he couldn't even call the thing he was playing a piano in good consciousness. It was an old Casio keyboard, the speakers tinny and muffled, and it was probably intended for a 'Baby's First Keyboard' kind of experience, but he loved it to death.

Never mind that he couldn't play it. 

Yet, he kept reminding himself.

He'd been making slight progress. Of course, that progress depended on him and him alone, since he was way too broke for a teacher, and he'd never ask one of his friends to sit down and teach him for free, so what he had was limited musical knowledge from his singing lessons, and a can-do attitude about learning at least the chord formations.

His wrists hurt so bad.

There was nothing ergonomical about how he'd been playing, the keyboard slanted as it rested on his desk, all his books and school supplies haphazardly pushed off to the corners of it so he could rest the dinky little keyboard in front of him.

He stopped to stretch his wrists in front of him, wincing a bit at how the motion made him feel every tendon that hurt, and stared at the stickers on every white key, telling him what note it was.

He chuckled at himself, only mildly self deprecating, and debated just ripping them out so he could learn things properly, learn how to fend for himself with the instrument.

They were peeling away by themselves, anyway, it'd been so long since he'd spent a good thirty minutes writing 'C D E F G A B' on tape, four times for each letter, then meticulously ripping them one by one and sticking them on the corresponding keys. 

After almost getting one off and regretting it, Renjun gave up, knowing that it would do nothing other than make him more frustrated and that was a surefire way to get him to never touch the damn thing again. And he did not want that.

He wanted to just be able to fucking play, already.

He'd sent a recording of himself clumsily pressing the keys in something that _could_ be considered playing to Donghyuck, earlier. And one to Jeno. And Jaemin.

Maybe they were busy. He didn't get a reply.

It was fine. His friends had lives, they were busy, they still loved him even when they couldn't be there, and Renjun understood that, in a logical way he had absolutely no issues with the situation whatsoever, it was nothing he didn't do himself.

But trauma was trauma.

He never really planned on talking about it. Well, he had before, a few times, and his friends had their hearts in the right place, they tried understanding and putting themselves in his place, but either Renjun lacked the words, or he was the only one amongst them who experienced it, because they didn't get it.

He loved his friends so much that he was a little glad that that was the case.

Renjun wasn't especially needy. He liked being left alone to his devices, didn't really have a problem with spending time in only his own company, he quite enjoyed his own company, to be honest, and his friends knew that, knew he was independent to a fault.

Still.

An unanswered text was all it took. Maybe he asked someone to hang out but they couldn't or were too tired or just didn't feel like it. Maybe he showed them a song, or a movie, or a picture, and they didn't react like he was expecting them to.

To anyone else, it might sting a little, but that's that, life goes on.

To Renjun it was like being slapped in the face. Like being told he was worthless, point blank.

The hard thing about that was that he knew that wasn't a proportional reaction. He knew, he was self aware enough to know that just because Donghyuck said 'sorry, Injunie, not today' when Renjun invited him over, it didn't mean he hated him, but it felt like it.

And how to deal with that?

How do you tell your friends that whenever they have perfectly normal responses to things, it kills a little part of you?

When Chenle turned 18 and they could finally get him drunk legally, once they were all lumped into Jeno and Jaemin's apartment after the bar, he sidled up to Renjun on the couch, and said, "Did I tell you about the weird, kinda heavy dream I had about you these days?"

Renjun shook his head, furrowed his brow in curiosity, and sipped from the beer bottle he'd been nursing as Chenle smiled, already holding back a few laughs. He was gearing up to laugh.

"I had a dream that I like, started yelling at you out of nowhere. You were annoying me with somethin' or other, like when you were younger and you were - you know, how you were back then. You even looked like when you were 16 or something, so weird." Renjun smiled, nodded, already feeling a little emptier. "And I just. Grabbed you by the shoulders and shook the shit out of ya, I was so fuckin' mad, and I don't even know why! I wasn'even mad at you when I had the dream!" 

Chenle wasn't the kind of person to say one thing and mean another, so Renjun entirely believed him. Still.

It felt like his blood froze in his veins. Immediately, there was an urge to say sorry, excuse himself and go home, god, what was he even doing there? He should have let them have their fun amongst themselves, he needed to get out - and his rational brain came in, albeit a bit late, reminding him that _they asked him to come_. He helped plan the evening. By his friends' requests. He ended up somewhere in the middle, still wanting to run, but knowing that would only draw more attention.

He was a little tipsy, so his guard was down, and all he could do was huff out a hollow laugh, and look Chenle in the eye to say, "I don't know how to take that."

Chenle seemed to catch on that Renjun wasn't really laughing, because he immediately sat up straight and placed his hands on top of Renjun's. He didn't notice that he flinched. Maybe that was for the better. "It was just a dream! It doesn't mean anything, okay? It was just a dream," he shook his head, eyes wide and honest and filled with something that looked like regret. 

Renjun put him out of his misery and smiled - or at least, did his very best impression of a smile, - before ruffling Chenle's hair and reassuring him that it was fine, and that yeah, it was funny before he finished his beer, sat it down on the coffee table, and went over to the balcony, staring at the buildings with a little distance between him and the rest of his friends.

He could still hear them laughing and whooping and hollering inside, peace seemingly restored, and despite being a little too fuzzy in the head, despite not feeling like he'd be able to join in just then, felt happy. He didn't want to bother anyone, if they were happy, so was he.

If they were happy, so was he.

He didn't need to tell anyone. He didn't have to make anyone feel bad. 

If they were happy, so was he.

Renjun hadn't even noticed he was staring at the wall until his eyes were to dry to keep open anymore.

He snapped out of his reverie, looking around and remembering that that had been years ago. He was in his room. It was morning, by then, and he was still there, sitting in front of his Casio, phone showing no new notifications. 

He tamped down the urge to cry. Crying didn't help, it didn't even feel cathartic anymore.

Instead, he closed his eyes and reminded himself that he'd see his friends the next day. And when he saw them, it all hurt a little less. They were there. They laughed at his jokes. They asked how his day was going. They asked him, 'Renjunie, wanna go for a coffee run?'. They acknowledged his presence.

He wondered if there was ever a day in which he wouldn't feel like an alien trying to integrate into human society. Everything took so much effort, so much thought, so much acting, so much energy. Sure, less than when he was younger, a teenager - that was a phase he'd very much like to forget, in fact -, but still so much.

His eyes opened, and if there were tears pooled up when he looked at the window, blurring the light blue through the glass, he didn't acknowledge them.

He had to take a shower. Then he had to sleep.

And after he woke up, tomorrow would be there, and he'd have to get up, and start again.

He hoped, like almost everyday, that tomorrow would go a little easier on him. That he would make things a little easier for himself.

At least, if it didn't work, there was always the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic! Remember, there's always, always tomorrow.
> 
> This was unbeta'ed, and only lightly edited. Feel free to leave a comment, kudos, or drop me a follow!
> 
> twitter @haechanfullsun


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